When William Came eBook

“Dear God,” exclaimed Herr von Kwarl,
“as you say, they have made sacrifices on that
altar!”

CHAPTER VII: THE LURE

Cicely had successfully insisted on having her own
way concerning the projected supper-party; Yeovil
had said nothing further in opposition to it, whatever
his feelings on the subject might be. Having
gained her point, however, she was anxious to give
her husband the impression of having been consulted,
and to put her victory as far as possible on the footing
of a compromise. It was also rather a relief
to be able to discuss the matter out of range of Joan’s
disconcerting tongue and observant eyes.

“I hope you are not really annoyed about this
silly supper-party,” she said on the morning
before the much-talked-of first night. “I
had pledged myself to give it, so I couldn’t
back out without seeming mean to Gorla, and in any
case it would have been impolitic to cry off.”

“Why impolitic?” asked Yeovil coldly.

“It would give offence in quarters where I don’t
want to give offence,” said Cicely.

“In quarters where the fait accompli is an object
of solicitude,” said Yeovil.

“Look here,” said Cicely in her most disarming
manner, “it’s just as well to be perfectly
frank about the whole matter. If one wants to
live in the London of the present day one must make
up one’s mind to accept the fait accompli with
as good a grace as possible. I do want to live
in London, and I don’t want to change my way
of living and start under different conditions in
some other place. I can’t face the prospect
of tearing up my life by the roots; I feel certain
that I shouldn’t bear transplanting. I
can’t imagine myself recreating my circle of
interests in some foreign town or colonial centre
or even in a country town in England. India
I couldn’t stand. London is not merely
a home to me, it is a world, and it happens to be
just the world that suits me and that I am suited
to. The German occupation, or whatever one likes
to call it, is a calamity, but it’s not like
a molten deluge from Vesuvius that need send us all
scuttling away from another Pompeii. Of course,”
she added, “there are things that jar horribly
on one, even when one has got more or less accustomed
to them, but one must just learn to be philosophical
and bear them.”

“Supposing they are not bearable?” said
Yeovil; “during the few days that I’ve
been in the land I’ve seen things that I cannot
imagine will ever be bearable.”

“That is because they’re new to you,”
said Cicely.

“I don’t wish that they should ever come
to seem bearable,” retorted Yeovil. “I’ve
been bred and reared as a unit of a ruling race; I
don’t want to find myself settling down resignedly
as a member of an enslaved one.”

“There’s no need to make things out worse
than they are,” protested Cicely. “We’ve
had a military disaster on a big scale, and there’s
been a great political dislocation in consequence.
But there’s no reason why everything shouldn’t
right itself in time, as it has done after other similar
disasters in the history of nations. We are not
scattered to the winds or wiped off the face of the
earth, we are still an important racial unit.”